


In the In-between

by KiiKitsune



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Inspired by Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiiKitsune/pseuds/KiiKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for territory negotiations to start is the worst part for Derek. That's why Stiles is always his backup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the In-between

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this lovely picture: http://rad-i-cal.tumblr.com/post/31850426184/sterek-sketch

“They’re here,” Derek says, pushing off the crate he’d been sitting on. 

Stiles licks his lips, snapping the last piece of his pistol into place. He wipes his hands off on the cleaning rag, dropping it back onto the makeshift table, before standing himself. He slides in the cartridge, locking it in place. If Derek can hear them, the other wolves are close enough to have heard the warning click of a loaded gun.

“Don’t say anything stupid.”

Stiles doesn’t bother to roll his eyes or tell him off. He’s been to enough of these rodeos to know how to act, and they both know it. The only reason Derek even says anything is because he’s nervous. It’s in the way he breathes, the stiff set of his shoulders, the slight hunch in his back. 

Stiles steps into Derek’s space, “Afterwards let’s go pick up pizza for the pack. Isaac said something about wanting vegetarian last night. Weirdo.”

Derek’s hand fits perfectly to the back of his skull, fingers pushing paths through the short hairs there. He’ll never tell anyone, but Stiles had grown it out just for that feeling. 

Derek is looking intently at Stiles’ brow, his cheeks, his moles; thumb stroking absently while he catalogues it all, like he does every time. If something were to go wrong, Derek could reconstruct Stiles from bare bones right down to every imperfect detail.

Stiles is the one to lean in, Derek’s hand following but never leading. They don’t meet half way, Stiles has to surge forward and draw Derek in, drag him back into the middle ground with tongue and teeth.

The hand he doesn’t have on his pistol presses firmly against Derek’s chest, fingers spread wide. Derek grabs his hip, pushing up under his red hoodie and gray t-shirt to palm over bare skin. The warmth of the connection lingers even after Derek’s hands slip away and he steps back. Derek ducks his head, eyes still closed.

Stiles doesn’t say it will be alright. Reassurances are a weakness they can’t afford in the presence of other wolves. Instead, he raises his chin, grins and waits. 

He meets Derek’s opening eyes with undeniable surety. 

It’s enough.


End file.
